


you're my end and my beginning

by buries



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, F/M, Future Fic, Future Iris and Current Barry, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 09:42:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6561391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buries/pseuds/buries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>she waits a really long time for him.</i> or the one where iris finds a barry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're my end and my beginning

**Author's Note:**

> i ... don't know what this is. i wanted to write pwp for barry/iris because gecko always tells me to write porn whenever i ask for suggestions, and then this transformed into something else? it really was only a matter of time before i started writing for these guys after binging this show.
> 
> think: current barry (or a barry that's _behind_ iris time-wise) time travels to 2024 iris west-allen. this is definitely an au; i don't think it specifically fits with a season two barry, but, honestly, that's up to you guys. what else is up to you: whether barry/iris are in a romantic relationship or not in barry's timeline, and if 2024 barry is dead or simply missing. those two things are not quite pivotal to the fic, but it may be for your reading experience! 
> 
> title is from _all of me_ by john legend. unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine. thanks for reading! ♥

She waits a really long time for him.

Skidding onto the asphalt of the abandoned street, she races toward him. Heels clicking hard against the ground, she wraps her arms beneath his and pulls him up. Heavier than she remembers him being, she struggles to haul him across the wet and dark road.

Coming to quickly, his feet no longer drag along the road when the strength returns to his bones. Leaning heavily on her now, his arm wraps around her shoulders, her hand tugging his around her neck to against her collarbone. He tries his best to hold himself up, but Barry’s thrown himself too hard and too fast against the road and this time.

Iris pulls him across the gutter and onto the pavement, unlatching the thin gate of a house with one hand. Kicking it open, it’s loud as it bangs against itself, hinges screeching softly as she pulls him and guide him along the beaten path to the porch. 

Uncaring for the noise, she becomes blind and deaf to their surroundings, tuning herself into him and his breathing and the way he moves sluggishly and heavily against her. Up the stairs where he loses his footing, he leans heavily against the side of the house instead of her as she opens it quickly.

The lights are out. The shadows make it impossible for her to see where she’s going, where a table or chair is, but she’s memorised the layout of this home a thousand times over. Closing the door, she locks it, feeling him move away from her to try and rest his back against the wall — or where he thinks it to be.

Catching him quickly, arms wrapping around his waist, Iris pulls him along the path she’s memorised to the couch. He drops heavily onto it, his breathing suddenly hard and loud in her ears. There’s a soft glow from the dull street lights illuminating through the window, and she can see his face then. 

Bloodied and bruised, his lip is split and his brow bleeding as he closes his eyes and throw his arm over his head. Having pulled his mask off his hair, she can see blood’s trickled from his hairline and into the mop of it.

“Barry …” she whispers, leaning forward to brush her fingers along his bruised cheek.

She can hear him move, feel his gaze on her. It’s always been this warm and bright. Quietly, he whispers, “Iris?”

Pressing her lips together, Iris smiles. A tear trickles from the corner of her eye as she nods. “Yes,” she says, voice a whisper. “It’s me, Barry. It’s Iris.”

He shifts, and she places her hands on his shoulders to keep him down on the couch. He’s slouched on it, legs hanging off its edge. Feet moving against the ground, he doesn’t sit up, despite his best efforts in trying to. He's never learned to ride out his disorientation, always so keen to be on his feet and keep moving. 

She sits on the very edge of the couch, close to him, and feels his hand blindly search for hers. Keeping her hands safely in her lap, she tries not to move when his hand glides against her thigh. Brushing his fingers along her wrist, she finds she jumps at the contact.

“Sorry …” He begins to pull his hand away, but she grabs at it, entwining their fingers. Moving closer toward him, she rests them on his chest instead of her lap. She can imagine him looking down to where his hand in hers rests, brows pulled together in confusion. “Where am I?”

“In your world, but not from your time,” she says quietly. Something within her wilts. As if sensing it, his fingers squeeze hers. Lips curving upward, her smile doesn’t linger on her mouth. “What were you thinking about?”

“You.” She thinks she can see his brow crinkle. She knows it’s a stupid question to ask, but she has always expected his answer to change. “I … I was running. I — It was Zoom. He was chasing me.”

“And you ran too fast,” she breathes out. 

“Yeah, I guess? I don’t know.” He shakes his head. His voice becomes panicked when he says, “But he’s going to be here, Iris.” Barry begins to sit up, finding it difficult to fight against her free hand pressing his shoulder down. “He followed me —”

“You’re safe,” she says. “Zoom won’t get you here.”

“How do you _know_ —”

Iris shifts her hand in his grip, feeling his slacken as she pulls her fingers from where hers slip into the spaces between his own. Brushing her fingers over his pulse, it beats quickly beneath her thumb. Wrapping her fingers around his, she brushes the pads of them over her left hand.

Letting her guide him, she feels him move his fingers. He presses harder against her ring finger. “I …”

“It's 2024, Barry.” His thumb brushes over the ring on her hand. Looking down in the dark, she watches him study it by touch. His thumb sneaks underneath to brush against her palm.

He breathes out incredulously, “I’m in the future?”

“Yes.”

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“I know everything about you, Barry,” she smiles, voice sounding wet. Reaching up to brush her hand against her eye, she drops it to wipe the wetness on her dress. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“How? I don’t understand —”

“Cisco,” she says. His hand stops exploring her own, merely holding it against his chest. Iris doesn't pull hers away. 

“If Cisco knew I was coming, I —”

“ _Our_ Cisco. You’re meant to be here, Barry. You’re meant to be here with me.”

“But Zoom …”

“Your Zoom won’t follow you. I can promise you.”

“How?”

“Have a little faith in me, Barry,” Iris smiles. Her hand squeezes his before she pulls it from his hold. Feeling suddenly cold without his touch, she cradles her arm to her chest, brushing her fingers against her palm in the hope to spark heat into it once more. “I know more than you think.”

He smiles. “You’re too smart for your own good, Iris.”

She ducks her head, hair falling over her shoulder. She feels the couch move as he begins to pull himself up, hand reaching out toward her.

Pulling away from him, she stands quickly. Brushing her hands against her dress, she looks along the length of him lying on the couch. He begins to pull himself toward the edge, dragging his feet along the ground. She doesn't look at him when she says quietly, “We need to get you cleaned up.”

His brows furrow. “Are you okay?”

Pressing her lips together, she wrings the fabric of her dress between her fingers. Instead of answering him with an affirmative that feels like lead as it begins to work itself on her tongue, she keeps her gaze downcast. Quietly, she repeats, “We need to get you cleaned up, Barry.”

He nods, standing to his feet the moment she takes a step away. Leading him to the small kitchen, she pulls out a chair for him at the table. With a few candles lit and positioned in the corners of the small kitchen, it’s brighter than the living room had been. The lights remain off, the house appearing as though a woman isn’t preparing to wipe the blood off of her husband’s younger face inside.

She remains at the sink for a long time, wringing the cloth in her hands until it's no longer dripping with water. When she turns around, she finds he’s sitting on the chair, arm resting along the table as he looks at her.

Ducking his gaze, she smiles as he tries to avoid hers. 

Walking toward him, she stands before him. Legs bumping into his knees, she watches as he widens them before she tentatively steps into the space between them. Brushing her fingers beneath his chin, she looks at him, watching him observe her.

Wiping her thumb against his bloodied lip, she lets her hand linger underneath his jawline.

He doesn’t shake her hand away. With a nervous smile, he whispers, “You’re looking at me weird.”

She smiles, amused. Ducking her head, she looks up at him with a furrow to her brows. “I’m looking at you like I normally look at you.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “There’s just … I don’t know.” He lifts his hand to brush his fingers against her cheek. Iris’ eyes flutter, hand pausing on his temple. “There’s a sadness there. I can see it.”

She sighs. With a kind smile, she replies, “It’s been a rough day, Barry.” Wiping the wet cloth along his temple, she winces when he flinches. The cloth is cold in her hands, his scratches possibly nothing compared to the broken bones that had taken too long to repair in the past. Gently, she cleans the blood from his hairline before she wipes at his mouth.

She lets her gaze linger on his, finding he never looks away from her.

Once she drops her hand, wiping the cloth against his jawline, he asks, “Is it —” He swallows and licks his lips. “Is this the day I vanish?”

The soft curve of her mouth drops. Looking at him for a long moment, she drops her gaze and her hand. Gripping the red cloth tightly, she shakes her head. “No.”

“So, when —”

Keeping her gaze down, she swallows against the lump in her throat. “You’ve been gone for a long time, Barry.” When she looks up at him, he’s blurred. A tear falls from her eye, then another.

Barry reaches for her, and she finds she falls and folds into him. Sitting on his lap, he cradles her to him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she buries her face into his hair, the cold cloth against his neck. She feels his shoulder move to dislodge it from where it sits against his flesh, causing her to laugh wetly.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t how this was supposed to go.”

“Then how was it?” His hand rubs against her back. She drops the cloth onto the table behind him. 

Holding him tightly to her, she feels her cheeks dampen, his own neck wet from her tears. “You were supposed to come back.”

She can feel him pull away, and so she hugs him tighter, fingers gripping the fabric of his suit.

“I don’t … I don’t understand what’s happening, Iris.” Despite how soft his voice is, she can hear how desperate he is to understand. Barry’s never been good at handling situations where he doesn’t understand. Unable to connect the dots, to see what no one else can see — She knows she’s being unfair, leading him to a path where she’s scattered the tiniest crumbs with no promise a house will be waiting for him at the end. 

“But you can tell me.” His hand is harder on her back, the other remaining on the small of it.

“You haven’t come back.”

“I haven’t …”

“You _promised_ me,” she says, hearing her voice crack. She sniffs, inhaling through her nose in the hopes to steel herself once more. Straightening in his arms, she tries to sit tall against him, an unwavering tower not even a bolt of electricity can see shatter.

But she has. Every time she hears a crackle of lightning, feels a shock of static run through her, she feels herself crumble over and over.

“And you _haven’t._ ” She tries to grip the material of his suit in an effort to keep herself from embedding her fingers into him. “I’m so scared, Barry. And I _hate_ being scared.”

He looks at her, hands against her back, body warm beneath hers. Wiping at her eyes, she drops her hand, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth.

He leans forward and slopes his mouth firmly against hers. Hands cradling her cheeks, she feels tears fall against his fingers. Gripping hard onto his shoulders, she tries to remain still against him before she opens her mouth underneath his.

Licking into his mouth, she feels him respond quickly. His hands glide into her hair, pulling at it slightly. Iris shifts on his lap, pressing closer toward him as her hand glides up his chest to try and feel his heart close to the symbol of lightning.

Pulling away from him, she feels his nose brush against her own.

“We don’t have to do this,” she whispers against his lips. “I know you’re not him. I don’t expect you to be —”

Cradling her face, he looks at her with a smile that warms her. Shaking his head, he brushes his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “You’re wrong about one thing, Iris,” he says gently. Brushing the hair from her temple, he lets his hand fall to her thigh. “I _am_ your Barry. I’m just —” He lifts a shoulder and smiles, leading her to reach out to trace her fingers against the curve of his mouth and press into the corners. “I’m just a little slow, I guess.”

Looking up at her, his smile doesn’t waver. The shyness seems to, though. “You’re Iris. My Iris. You’ll always be my Iris. Doesn’t matter if I don’t remember — If I don’t remember this great life I’m going to have with you. Or I had with you. You could choose a different path or another guy, but —”

She shakes her head. “There’ll never be anyone else.”

His smile seems to widen. Ducking his head, he lets his hand fall to her neck, curving to it. Looking up at her, he’s blushing. “I will always be yours, if you’ll have me. If you want me to be. It doesn’t matter what time I’m from or if I don’t know … things I should know. I’ll always be your Barry. Just …”

“A little more hopeless,” she says fondly.

“Yeah,” he grins up at her. Brushing his thumb against her throat, he swallows thickly. “Yeah. A little more hopeless.”

Leaning forward, she slopes her mouth hard against his. He traces her bottom lip with his tongue, teeth nipping at the pillow. Her hands curve into his shoulders before she pulls away. Chasing after her mouth, he opens his eyes, lips slightly pursed before he relaxes back into the chair. “What —”

“Get out of your suit,” she says softly. Sitting back, she arches her brow. Pulling away from him, she stands before him and places her hands on her hips. Arching her brow, she says a little louder, “Get out of your suit. _Quick_.”

“I …” He looks at her, brows slightly raised. Iris isn’t sure if she wants to laugh, but she smiles, finding the deer in the headlights a refreshing and familiar look. “Okay,” he says, nodding.

Bright gold light illuminates the kitchen as he runs from the chair to the side of the table. Watching the streaks, she sees his suit fall to the floor as he stands before her in his underwear.

Looking down, she presses her hand to her lips to stifle a laugh.

“Don’t —” He sighs, exasperated.

“I’m sorry,” she says, trying to keep her laugh caged in her throat. Looking up at him, she sees he’s not amused, slightly embarrassed by the pink tinge she can see on his skin. “Your Batman boxers — They’re cute.” Clearing her throat, she lowers her hand and says, “Very manly. Attractive.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re killing me here, Iris.”

“I haven’t even started, Barry,” she says, lips curving into a smile. Watching him, she reaches for the back of her dress, pulling the zipper down. Feeling it begin to pull away from her shoulders, Iris slides her arms out from its shoulders, shimmying out of it to stand in her bra and underwear before him. 

Toeing off her shoes, she steps closer toward him. Hands pressing against his chest, she lets her fingers glide over smooth skin. If she looks up, she knows he’ll be watching her. So, she doesn’t, keeping her eyes on his chest, memorising the way his skin has yet to tell a story she’s read countless times over.

“You’re tickling me,” he murmurs.

She smiles. “Suck it up, Flash.”

His hands brush gently against her back, hesitant in touching her. Looking up at him, Iris presses her hand flat against his chest, feeling his heart pound against the palm of her palm. _Thump, thump. Thump, thump, thump._ She tries to count its beats, but finds it’s too fast for her to even begin.

Without taking her eyes off him, she murmurs, “Get on the table.”

He opens his mouth and makes a noise, then nods. She feels his hands linger on her before he’s wrapped in a bright golden streak. Sitting on the edge of the table, he looks at her with his lips parted. She walks into the space between his legs before shoving at his shoulders. 

“Oh,” he looks over his shoulder, then at her. “Okay. I — Wait.” 

There’s a streak of gold and she finds herself winded, straddling him as he sits in the very centre of the table.

Catching her breath, she looks down at him with a smile. Hands flat against the surface, he lets his gaze fall from her face to her collarbone. She watches as he begins to lean forward slowly, closing her eyes once his mouth makes contact with throat.

Hands curving to his shoulders, she shifts against him, arching her neck as he slowly kisses along her throat. Feeling his hands crawl up her back, his fingers pick at the clasp of her bra. She finds herself smiling as he struggles to pull it apart, either too focused on her throat and the way he licks at her pulse or too nervous to grasp it properly.

She feels it fall away from her back, and pulls her arms from him, sliding it down her shoulders and dropping it beside them. Pulling away from his neck, she cradles his face, thumbs brushing against his cheeks.

Leaning forward, she brushes the tip of her nose against his. “How did you feel when you saw my name in the by-line all those years ago?”

“I …” His hand glides up her bare back, fingers fanning between her shoulder blades. She watches him study her face, his hands learning and memorising her. He shifts beneath her and she can feel he’s hard between her legs. “I felt hopeful. Why?”

Iris smiles. “I like hearing that story.” Moving along him, she makes sure to sit right on his crotch. Lowering herself against him, she shifts purposefully to create friction between them. His hand falls to her hip to grip at the bone, mouth dropping open as she hears a noise rumble in his throat.

“I tell you about it?”

Moving her hips against his, she feels his hands grip at her. One on her hip digging for the bone, the other’s fingers attempting to burrow into the skin of her back. Her hands remain on his shoulders, smile never once slipping from her lips. “All the time.”

Sloping her mouth firmly against his, she feels his hand glide down her back, fingers tracing her spine. Falling to the small of it, his fingers slip beneath the waistband of her underwear, but he doesn’t curve his palm to the curve of her ass like she expects him to.

Pulling away from him, he removes the hand on her hip to plant it on the table to hold himself up. She lifts herself, pulling at the waistband of his underwear. Waiting for him to lift his hips, she pulls the fabric over them and down to his thighs.

Wrapping her fingers around his cock, she runs her nail along the length of it.

His head falls back, lips parted. “Shit, Iris —”

Moving her hand up and down the length of him slowly, she feels his fingers try to dig into the curve of her ass.

Removing her hand from his shoulder, she reaches between them, pulling her underwear to the side. At her hand stilling on him, he looks at her, lips parted, eyes dark. His gaze drifts to his lap, and watches her as she rises to slide the head of his cock against the seam of her cunt.

His hands move to her hips quickly, warm as his fingers press hard into the bones. “Iris —”

She slowly sheathes him, hand slowly gliding to the base of his cock before she removes it to press against his hips. With a moan, she shifts against him, remaining still as she takes him inside of her. Where she’d felt the ghost of him press into her at night, she feels her entire body light up with him inside of her, hands on her back and him, her skin burning from where his kisses have left her flesh electrified.

Returning her hands to his shoulders, she begins to roll her hips slowly. Resting her temple against his own, she hears her breath shake. He remains still against her, fingers tight on her hips, before she feels him move against her. With a moan, he shifts against her as though he’s about to kiss her, but thinks better of it, hand gliding up her back to thread through her hair instead.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers on a moan.

He rocks into her. “I love you,” he breathes out, fingers gripping her hair before they go slack. She feels his nails drag through her hair and along her back. 

He doesn’t touch her in the same way her Barry does, his hands slightly tentative, light against her back. But he warms her all the same, his fingers still soft, his hips still burning against her own. His shoulders feel the same beneath her fingers, lips still warm against hers as she finds they fit perfectly against hers when she slopes her mouth briefly over his.

Arching her spine, she lifts herself off him, tip of his cock still inside of her before she lowers herself again. And she does it again and again and again, finding his hands never once seal her to him, his hips bucking into hers as he rests his temple against her own.

Pulling away from her, she arches her neck against his mouth. He trails kisses from her shoulder to her chest, biting at the swell of her breast before he sucks at the skin. Arching her back, she rocks her hips into him harder, feeling his mimic hers.

Fingers scraping down her back, she feels him come with a jerk of his hips and a bite of his teeth against her breast.

Her fingers dig into his shoulders as she rocks against him harder, his hand slipping between them to rub hard against her clit.

“Move your finger,” she breathes out.

“What —”

Licking at her lips, mouth dry, Iris bows her head toward him. “Fast.” Bumping her temple against his, her mouth curves upward as her hands glide into his hair. “ _Fast._ ”

It takes him a moment, his hand still against her, before she feels it. With a slight vibration of his hand, she moans, leaning back as she feels his mouth on her chest to kiss his way down the valley of her breasts.

Clenching hard around him, she comes, fingers gripping hard in his hair as she tugs his head up and away from her. Leaning forward, she crashes her mouth against his own, feeling his teeth cut at her lip as she presses hard against him.

His hand reaches up to her face, thumb brushing against her cheek. He tries to pull away from her, but she keeps him trapped against her. Barry murmurs against her lips, “Why are you crying?”

Holding him to her, she presses her mouth gently against his own before she pulls away. Licking at her lips, she presses them together, tasting blood from her cut lip or his. He brushes his hands over her face, trying to wipe her cheeks from the wet trails her tears leave behind.

“I love you,” she smiles, finding the curve of her mouth to be wet and sad. Reaching forward, she brushes her fingers against his temple. Threading her hands through his hair, she lets her hand glide against his cheek. “And I hope you come back to _me_ someday.”

Leaning into her palm, he tilts his head and kisses the centre of it.


End file.
